


surrender

by ocelot



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocelot/pseuds/ocelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t about the sex because sex is about power and they’ve given up any notion of having power over their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	surrender

It’s not about the sex. You’d think it would be considering they have enough of it. It’s not about the way her lips feel against his or how she looks underneath him — dark hair fanning out in the white sheets and eyes like smoke. He pins her wrists above her head and captures her mouth. This is rapture. She is his forever in a world where they don’t have a tomorrow.

His fingers in her hair, his name in her mouth.

"Fuck." It’s one word and it leaves him breathless. He trembles against her. His fingers dance in the spaces the harness straps leave in her skin. Their skin is a map of bruises, scars, and indentation marks.

It’s not about the sex. Even if that’s how this whole thing started.

She’s fifteen and he’s thirty-nine, but that really doesn’t seem to matter when her hand’s wrapped around his cock. The first time they fuck it’s up against a wall. It’s fast and rough and it gets stuck in his head that he probably should have been gentler, but she doesn’t say anything. She only looks at him after they’re done and brushes the tips of her lips across his jawline. That, she says silently, is how you make love. Slowly, gently, but they’re not making love. At least not the first dozen times. They’re fucking, trying to get each other out of their system, but they never do.

Their appetite for each other is never sated.

Neither of them can be assed to turn on a light. It is the darkness that is the beauty of her. The second he saw her he knew had to taste her skin.

It’s like the first time all over again. Blindness, desperation, and a jumble of limbs. Her legs are wrapped around him and her hands cup his face. The tips of her fingers trace every line of skin. Blind, she makes a photocopy of what he looks like. She likes it best when they can’t see each other and it’s only feeling.  

He bought her pretty things just so he could rip them off of her. Mikasa isn’t an expensive girl. She prefers wearing his shirts loosely over her toned body and ripped jeans. Sneakers, backpack, no jewelry. She wouldn’t get trapped.

She wouldn’t feel the weight of someone she loved being taken from her again.       

Mikasa had a home once. Homes get burned down. Carried away in a storm. Buried by secrets. People can be homes too. Those are the worst kind of homes.

Levi doesn’t tell her that they share the same last name or that late at night when exhaustion makes his thoughts fuzzy that he thinks they fit almost too perfectly together or that he loves her. 

He has given too much of himself to her already, but every secret he keeps tastes like blood on his tongue.

He knows what she would say. Or wouldn’t rather. She’d just leave, and he can’t lose her.

It’s sick — this thing they have between them. She’s fifteen and he’s thirty-nine, another goddamn year until his next birthday, he stopped making wishes decades ago, but somehow she’s here with him and she’s the only thing he wants.  

It isn’t about the sex. When he’s with her he can stop thinking about the blood on his hands, just for a few fucking minutes, he can stop seeing the dead behind his eyes.

Mikasa rests against him. He is her bedroom wall, her favourite blanket, her hiding spot. He is her whole goddamn home, and she’s been in too many burning down houses to stay too long, but she lets the scent of him wash over her. His warm breath caresses her. 

Usually she’s the one on top. Mikasa likes to watch him squirm as she straddles his hips and rubs herself against his arousal. There’s something about him, more than his pretty boy face, and the striking contrast of his black hair against his pale skin, that she could look at forever. She loses herself in his eyes.  

This isn’t about getting off, this is about giving up control.

She grips his shoulders. His fingers lock with hers. Levi brushes his lips over her knuckles. It isn’t a sweet gesture, it’s to get her to stop scratching him. She’ll draw blood if he lets her.  

He rolls her over and presses her face into the pillow. All he can see is her short black hair against her skin. He feels her hipbones pushing into him and thrusts harder.

His slender fingers burrow into her hair. His teeth scrape her skin. He trails kisses over her shoulder blades, the bumps of her spine (becoming even more apparent as she arches to meet his kiss), and the curve of her lower back. 

It isn’t about the sex because sex is about power and they’ve given up any notion of having power over their lives. Love, however, is about surrender and that, stubborn as they both are, is something they can do. 


End file.
